9 Lives
by Olive Tree Hugger
Summary: Pink tipped wings and a bit of sprite dust.
1. Introduction

The immortal warlord watched with both pity and amusement as his lover snored ever so delicately. The young woman was sprawled over a multitude of ancient magic scrolls laden on her work desk. She fell asleep studying more spells, he mused. He approached her slowly, and wrapped one of her slender arms around his neck, and supported the rest of her frame with his other arm.

Carrying her to their bedroom, he occasionally glanced at the face of the lovely witch. He studied the contours and the way her eyebrow would twitch gently ever few minutes or so. This perfect face was one he'd seen many times before. And not just on this body. He remembered the eyes were the first thing that caught his attention. The glinting, passionate eyes were the color of blood. Such uniqueness was something he'd only had the pleasure of seeing every few centuries. Only nine other times had he been able to hold the white faced, red haired witch in his arms. And every time, she was taken away from him, pulled out from under him like a rug. Not this time. This tenth time meant eternal love. Before, it was just passion.

He reminisced in her 9 lives.

* * *

**Sorry it's so short guys, but this is the introduction. So if you haven't already guessed, this is a prompt fic about my OC Anna, and I was reading the Immortals Series when I realized my character should also have many past lives. And 9 just sounded catchy. So next chapter: The Blood Red Virus!**


	2. Bloody Red Virus

**The Blood Red Virus**

The smell of death was _everywhere. _Chase gagged as he stepped over dying, filthy bodies.

He carefully made his way through the godless town of Rome, cautious of making any contact with the infected, which, as he observed, was basically everyone. What a bad day to be in Europe! All he needed was a "visit" to the Roman emperor's palace, not a dying empire. Even though he had done this many a time before during a contagion, he always hated the hallow, pitiful look on the lifeless faces on the corpses. He hated seeing the street rats nibbling on the fingers of the victims of this terrible disease. He vowed that whenever he'd raid a befallen city, he would bring a mask from now on.

Passing by a supposedly abandoned home, Chase saw something in his peripheral vision. The crimson color made his think it was blood. He entered the home, stepping over the burnt threshold. There was no apparent smell of blood. Sitting on the floor, drinking what smelled like an herbal tea, was a woman. She was probably in her early thirties, Chase figured.

He stared at the mysterious woman. Unlike everyone else, her white skin was full of health, life, vitality. Her eyes, the ones that brought him there, seemed to smile all on their own. Her slightly crooked teeth formed a smile as well.

"Salve." She said, in a throaty, raspy voice. "Grata domo, o alienis unum." She must have been referring to his race, he mused.

Chase took that as an opportunity to sit across from her. She gave him a cup with what looked like ginseng and chamomile in it. He sniffed it and was instantly calmed as the scent entered his body, neurotransmitters telling to his brain to "chill". As he sipped his tea, he studied the woman more. She was in a grey and olive tunic-dress, her long, white hair draped over her shoulders. Despite the turmoil around her, Chase pondered, this woman was alive and well!

The woman realized what Chase was thinking. She smiled at him and sipped her tea.

"Malefica." She explained. "Ego maledixit eis."

Chase smirked. To escape burning at the stake, most likely.

She pointed to herself, "Meum nomen est Albina."

The man simply replied, "Chase"

Albina repeated, "Chase." She tried it out, tasting the foreign name. She smiled again.

Chase grinned back. They continued to converse about the weather, the plague, and magic. A clever woman, she was. By wiping out over a million people in mere weeks, she'd saved her own life and introduced witch craft to the world. What a perfect partner she could make in taking over the world.

"Ingeniosus." He praised, gesturing to the carnage outside.

She blushed, the red coloring on her face again reminded him of blood. "Gratius tu." She replied.

She leaned over suddenly, breathing in his scent. Her brilliant eyes widened. "Reptilian." She whispered.

Chase cocked his head to the side, confused by her reaction.

"Ego sum pars draco." He confirmed.

She pointed an accusing finger in his face, "Venisti ut noceret mihi!"

Calmly, Chase waved it away. "Non, mulier. Urbis opes mihi hie ait."

She stared at him. She figured as a witch, she needed to buy spell scrolls and ingredients for potions. And that required money. Helping Chase raid the palace would bring money, and it would be easy, anyway.

"Me tibi propositio." She offered.

* * *

Less than an hour later, they found themselves at the mouth of the castle. Chase swung his legs into the hallway, looking at vases, paintings, picking and choosing what he wanted. He ignored the dead/dying servants on the ground. Albina intruded the main hall, gathering whatever vases and rugs she could carry.

Chase watched her, amused. She was greedy. He liked it, but he also found it obnoxious. He wondered if she'd try stealing_ his_ riches if he took her home.

He decided, however intrigued he was with her, he would have to leave her behind. He casually walked out of the palace, intending to come back at a later time. Albina tried to follow him, "Chase!" She screeched.

He stopped and glanced back at her. She started walking toward him. But one rug she'd rolled up undid itself and caught her leg in a tangled mess. She tripped, and crashed onto the ground with a heavy thud.

Sitting up, she realized she waslying face to face with a dying slave boy. He breathed heavily into her face, whimpering as death took its time with him. She screeched again, realizing she'd been infected. A sick witch didn't make a powerful one. She tried to flee the palace again, and this time, made it down the stone steps before a hollowed out, yellow skinned man latched onto her back. He cried and moaned like a zombie. She screamed at him and yanked him off before cowering away to her little abode.

Chase sighed, and just before teleporting, figured that even if she did find a cure spell, by the time she used it, she'd be too sick to use it. She'd be dead in less than a week.

She was a brilliant witch, but, like the bloody virus, her greediness was her undoing.

* * *

**_So this was set in Ancient Rome, just as the plague wiped it out with it's disgusting virus. I know it's caled the "black death", but the witch who caused it had red eyes, hence the name. The language is Latin, language of ancient Europe. Next chapter, The Crimson Guillotine._ **

**Translations:**

**Salve: Hello**

**Grata domo, o alienis unum: Welcome to my home, oh strange one.**

**Malefica: Witch**

**Ego maledexit eis: I cursed them**

**Meum nomen est Albina: my name is Albina**

**Ingeniosus: ingenious**

**Gratius Tu: Thank You**

**Ego sum pars draco: I am part dragon**

**Venisti ut noceret mihi: You have come to hurt me!**

**Non, mulier. Urbis opes mihi hie ait: No, madam. I want to raid the city.**


	3. Crimson Guillotine

The Crimson Guillotine

Waltzing with a faceless, nameless harlot in the ballroom of the French king Louis the sixteenth, Chase Young watched the pale, lonely girl circle the vast room, disappearing in between all the dancing couples, lost among the silks, wigs, and lace. She was a fine lady, most definitely.

Her white hair had been pinned up and adorned with ruby gems and lace. While everyone else wore powdery wigs, her hair was all too fine. Her face was clean of makeup, the soft pink of her lips and cheeks were all the color she needed. And there were the eyes. The almond-shaped, rufescent wonders beckoned to him.

Her little hands held on to her fluffy, puffy red gown as people danced mindlessly, stepping on her toes. Her dainty feet were encased in black shoes, adorned with pink and brown quill feathers.

_Stunning._ Was his only word for it.

"Excusez moi." He mumbled to the woman he was previously dancing with. He left her there, standing alone, in the midst of saying, "Monsieur?"

* * *

He followed the mysterious woman, only seeing her red gown periodically in the mess of lace and lady-like men. He followed her into an open corridor, away from the music, soft gossip, and nasally laughter.

He found her wandering the hall, humming something to herself. He stepped forward cautiously, not wanting to alarm her. "Mademoiselle?" He inquired.

She turned around, and when seeing how handsome and deliciously foreign he was, she curtsied, "Mademoiselle Anneliese Bunoit."

Chase grinned and stepped closer. He bowed slightly and held her hand in his, kissing it. "Monsieur Chase Young." He replied.

She blushed. "You aren't from around here, are you, Monsieur Young?" She asked.

Chase replied, "I am from a land far from this place." He held out a hand, "Care to dance, Mademoiselle Anneliese?"

The young woman nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder, and one in his arm. Chase held her close. Looking down at her, he realized she couldn't be more than seventeen. So young and fresh! He realized then how much she reminded him of a witch he met years ago. She smiled broadly up at him, silently wondering what it was running through his mind.

The young woman lay her head on Chase's shoulder. "You dance wonderfully." She commented. Chase grinned, "Thank you." He replied.

The two quieted and they danced what felt like forever. He swayed with her slowly, reveling in her scent. He noticed the way she held on to him, smiling devilishly and studying his features. His nostrils flared and he took another whiff. All different scents, ranging from cinnamon to face powders to the familiar smell of sex.

He realized then, she was a working girl.

He slowed, taken aback, when she asked, "What's wrong, Monsieur?"

He said nothing, but gestured towards two men in authoritative dress; a blue and red ruffled shirt, gold sash and silver helmet, approaching them with mean looks plastered on their faces. They held spears in their hands. They glared at Anneliese with both shock and betrayal.

She cowered away from them, pawing at Chase. "What do you-?" She started to ask.

One grabbed her arm and pulled her forward. He called her "Prostituee! You throw yourself to anyone you can find, don't you?"

Chase watched, wondering. A normal concubine being arrested for what? Just then, another guard tried to latch onto Chase. With ease, Chase simply flicked him away like a common mosquito.

Then he pushed down the other guard, knocking him out. Anneliese, scared and confused, rushed to him. "Monsieur Chase, I'm so sorry, they must think that..."

Her voice trailed off when she noticed the scowl on his face.

"What _are_ you?" He asked, a bit ticked off. One guard groaned and rolled over. Chase kicked his head in before fixating his gaze on the lady.

She stuttered a couple of times, suddenly very scared of this handsome stranger. "I-I am-I'm the His majesty's favorite call girl."

Chase exhaled heavily. "You're a common whore." He corrected. "I don't like to associate with women like you. Not my type." He turned to leave.

But she latched on to him. "Monsiuer! Je suis desole!"

He smirked, "For what? You were simply doing what you do best. You made one mistake, however. You betrayed your king. You're treacherous."

"But I am not promised to him! He has a wife!" She replied.

Chase simply waved it off. "I must be going. Pleased to make your acquaintance." He bowed and turned away, just as a new batch of guards captured her, calling her a "traitre" and "puffiasse".

He paid no mind to her screams and pleas. He teleported back to his citadel wordlessly.

* * *

A week later, the jungle cats remembered to steer clear of their Master, who sulked about the castle aimlessly and angrily.

Chase, who'd watched Anneliese's last moments on Earth, felt guilty. An emotion he hadn't _dared_ to feel in centuries. He remembered watching her through the Eye Spy Orb, watched as she was blindfolded, chained and marched onto a wooden platform where a man in black and a formidable copper-colored Guillotine awaited her.

There was a huge crowd around them, shouting profanities and threats in French at her, the traitor. She was revealed as the temptress that seduced the king and ruined the royal family. She was sentenced to beheading that dark morning. The man in the black mask pushed her onto her knees and placed her head in the slot.

Slowly teasing the crowd, he showed off her prostrate form and clamped his sweaty hands on the rope that would bring her certain death.

Meanwhile, Chase watched. His heart pounded in both anticipation and fear. Both two relatively new emotions. Ones he truly hated feeling. He studied the guillotine. The blade was ragged and sharp, meant to cause her pain in her last moments. It had a strange reddish tint. Whether it was colored that way, or just blood stained, Chase couldn't quite tell. He refocused on Anneliese. Her mouth was parted slightly, like she wanted to speak.

After much provocation from the audience, the executioner finally cut the rope, and down came the red blade. The proud man picked up Anneliese's severed head by her now blood-stained white hair. The people cheered "Long live the King and Queen of France!", and Chase growled. The feeling in hit gut knotted and twisted. He turned off his orb and threw it into the wall, watching as it caused a small crater in the wall.

He watched that beautiful face drained of its life.

And he didn't do a damn thing to stop it.

* * *

**So that was set in the eighteenth century, in France. The lace and girly men should've given it away. Anyway, so Chase doesn't like concubines. He's a monogamous type of guy (awww) Anyways, yeah. Sad she had to die. but I'm a bloodthirsty monster, so be warned, more character death is coming! Please review!**


	4. Erubescent Sanctuary

Erubescent Sanctuary

Chase was never a bird person, with all that incessant chirping and egg-laying and pooping everywhere, but that didn't stop him from owning the most coveted bird sanctuary in the entire history of the eighteenth century. He looked around, noting that many of the eggs here had already hatched, seeing so many fledglings tweeting in their nests.

He watched, amused, at the mother birds who coaxed their children off the trees and into soaring freedom. All the birds; the cardinals, parakeets, crows, bluejays, all of them were teaching their babes to thrive. But there was one bird couple that made Chase proud.

He'd been trying to breed the perfect black doves for months now. Week after week, Chase would use spells and incantations to charm the birds. He even tried to get that unique green shine to show in their feathers. One night, he found a small bluish egg in the nest, and was instantly captivated.

He waited for that egg to hatch, waited eagerly, it took a full month, but finally, the egg hatched a huge surprise.

The fledgling was a small, shivering mass of pure white feathers. Her eyes were the deepest rubicund shade he'd ever seen. Her beak and legs were a rosy, pale pink. She was a quiet bird, quivering and shaking. At the slightest noise, she lifted her little head up and studied her surroundings intently.

Chase fixated his time on that bird. Whenever he had an extra minute, he was by its side. He ignored the parents, they could feed and coddle her on their own time. When Chase had her, he taught her to fly back and forth in a messenger fashion. He nursed her til she was full grown.

Chase spent so much time training and coddling that bird so much he hadn't realized the simple jealousy that over took his then consort, Rani.

* * *

In human form, Rani was a lovely warrior that had been smitten with Chase since she met him in India. She was beautiful and she waited on Chase every moment she spent breathing.

Chase never paid her much attention.

Rani found it irritating, losing Chase to another warrior, at least they'd be on the same playing field...but a worthless bird? It was insulting! So Rani plotted.

Chase came home from a long journey, tired and rather irritated. The heat and humidity was making his hair frizz and his inner dragon stir earnestly. He went to the coolness of the bird sanctuary to check on his favorite dove, whom he compassionately named, 'Anh Dao'.

"Anh Dao." He called.

No answer. The dove didn't fly to her master like he trained her to.

"Anh Dao." He repeated, growing agitated. Still, no response.

Instead, he saw the black doves, Anh Dao's parents, standing over something. Mourning. They cooed and crooned over the tiny carcass of what was his little dove.

Chase bared his teeth in a snarl. Again, he watched the white and red key to his heart leave him. This time, a strong messenger bird and someone who listened to his ranting. His accursed affections bested him once more.

Leaving the sanctuary, he called on his consort and took her in her bed, more out of frustration than lust or the need for comforting.

After wards, with a malicious grin and with a simple flick of his wrist, Rani's long black hair suddenly coated her body in the form of feathers, and her frame went small. Her nose lengthened into a beak, and wings spread out; she was now a hideous crow.

"You will now only serve me outside of bed," Chase warned angrily, "You will spy on my enemies and send messages to whoever I please."

Rani the crow squawked in protest before Chase stood, suddenly holding a small sheet of papyrus. He tied it to her leg and ordered, "To the troll King of Siam, now."

The crow went reluctantly.

Arriving in the kingdom, the king took one look a the paper and instantly devoured the crow. Licking his finger tips, he discarded the paper which, stained with blood, read,

"Kill me."

* * *

**Well that sucked. LOL anyways, yeah. That's one of my not so human OC's, Anh Dao the dove. **


	5. Red Silk

Red Silk

Chase absorbed the sound of the church bells ringing and the mosque azzan calling mingling as he sat in a tea shop in ancient Baghdad . As a young, male waiter in a tunic and harem pants placed a cup of tea before him, Chase contemplated on the beauty of the city. In the Golden Age of Islam, he witnessed truly amazing things. Cooperation between separate religions, mixing of races and languages, and a flourishing economy. He'd visited the House of Wisdom, and studied with the greatest of scholars, like Ibn Sina and Rhazes, and he and the Caliph, along with the rest of the royal court, drank sparkling cider from golden goblets, watching some of Greece's most recently recovered plays performed.

He watched different men and women enter the tea shop. Some dark, some light. Some wore a veil, some went uncovered. Some spoke Arabic, others mumbled in Kurdish or Farsi or Berber. He sipped his bitter tea and inhaled deeply. He noticed the shop smelled like heavy herbs.

Then suddenly, something caught his eye.

A young, pale woman with the reddest of eyes walked in.

She was a tall, regal beauty. Her skin wasn't as white as he'd remembered , but her eyes were the same. Piercingly bright, maroon tinted eyes that spoke volumes.

She wore a bright, silky red veil loosely over her head, but her hair showed through. It was black as night. Her black and gold gypsy dress hugged her waist, a green sash tied around the curve of her hips. Her arms were encased in gold bangles, her hands and feet decorated in elaborate red and black henna.

She began to plead to the man, holding up her hands in a "begging" motion; but the man turned her away, telling her he had business to attend to.

The two argued until he shoved his hands up, cursing in Arabic, and hurried away to see to customers.

The woman left the shop in a huff, cursing as well. Chase decided to follow. He found her sitting under the window of a little brick building. She was sitting cross-legged on the street, over a patchy red blanket, holding a _lut_, and strumming gently on it.

As the people of the city passed by, some dropping coins in front of her, and some not caring, she began to hum gently. She opened her mouth and sang a soft song Chase recognized as an old Arabic lullaby.

_"Yallah tinaam,_

_Yallah tinaam,_

_Yithbah lek teer al hamam _

_Rooh ya hamam la tisadik _

_Nidhek 'al madina tet naam. _

_Baghdad baghdad hinda'a_

_Sha'rha asfar wimna'a _

_Wili bithiboo bit boosoo _

_Wa nidhek 'al madina tet naam."_

Suddenly, the world around Chase stopped. Everyone collapsed on the ground, snoring as though it were bed time. Everyone fell asleep, including the shop owner, who was sprawled onto one of the tables. Even the birds and cats were napping next to each other. Only Chase and the woman were unaffected.

She looked up from her lut and stared Chase down with her piercing eyes. It wasn't a rare occurrence for someone from the Orient to come here, but she knew something was different. He hadn't been affected by her spell.

"'_Afwan_." She said, getting up from her place. "Who are you?"

"_Ana_ Chase Young." He replied, "And you?"

"Anhaar." She answered, still very suspicious, for Chase knew who she was, but she did not. This tormented Chase.

"I come from the far East." He continued, now circling this temptress of a witch.

She commented, tensing and narrowing her eyes, "But you aren't..._bani Adam_. Are you?"

Chase nodded, making her gasp. "Demon!" She cried suddenly.

"_La_," he said, "I am the immortal warrior." He laughed at her naivity. She had summoned the demons to bring the city to its knees, why accuse him of interacting with them?

Anhaar gasped again, before smiling. "The warrior Chase Young." She finally acknowledged, knowing full well who he was. Her smiled broadened, now showing a dazzling set of perfect teeth.

"I've read _masahif_ all about you. You're magical power intrigues me greatly. You must tell me, how you do it?"

Chase tilted his head, "Do what, exactly?"

He leaned in, bending slightly. She pursed her lips and lowered her lids so it looked as though she was staring at him through the fan of her dark lashes. She whispered, "Survive."

He raised an eyebrow, "I drink-"

"No!" She cut in, "Not you're dragon concoction. How do you fight the urges? The need to be human? As a human, you're prone to weakness and accidents."

Chase listened.

"But you can't fight it. The human body craves normality, it sets it's own death sentence from the moment you're born."

Then, the man lips tugged up with a smirk. "But you are a _sahira, alaysa kathalik_?"

She slid the cheerfully colored scarf off her head, revealing the curliest, blackest ringlets Chase had ever seen.

Anhaar shook her head, almost mournfully. "I am a gypsy, I delve into black magic when I need to, but I am still human."

He gestured to the area around them. Everything still stood completely still. "You're power is of great caliber. Surely, you can conjure up something?"

She sighed, shaking her head. "I've tried to join the _jinn_, the witches, and the sorcerers. I'm simply nomad trash. But I have the power to manipulate, to read minds, and entrance whomever I please."

She suddenly pointed at a man leading a little grey donkey through the road.

"See him? That man owes his brother-in-law and his goons thousands of dirhams over camel racing. He's contemplating whether to steal the money from street vendors in the bazaar. And she-,"

She pointed to a young woman in a scarf tied behind her ears, "Had a dirty little affair with a Rabbi's son. She's willing to do anything to hide her guilt. Even if it means working with an evil gypsy." She shrugged, smirking smugly.

Chase rubbed his chin with his forefinger. "You are quite the evil gypsy. You control them by blackmail."

Anhaar lifted her chin proudly. She stuck out a dirty foot and braced it against the stone road, hip jutting out slightly.

"But it is weak." He continued.

She gasped and narrowed her eyes at him. Crossing her arms over her chest, she growled, "How is it weak?"

Chase grinned, exposing his deadly looking canines.

"You should let their own weaknesses be their undoing. You need no blackmail for petty circumstances such as these. You could help the so-called 'goons' get their money, only to then turn your back on them and destroy them. As for the girl," He folded his arms behind his back, "kill the man she slept with. It will hurt the woman and his family terribly, to the point where they will look for a miracle worker."

He gestured to her when he said this.

"...only so I may deceive them." Anhaar continued.

Chase turned, "Thus is the path of wreaking havoc." he stated simply.

It was quiet as Anhaar contemplated on Chase's advice. The immortal, however, took great pleasure in watching her think, watching her choose.

She grinned suddenly, saying, "_Sayid_ Young, you are truly a genius."

He accepted the compliment with a nod. "You are welcome to come to my citadel and train under me." He offered.

She studied him. "Really?"

"Believe me, I don't offer this kind of thing, often. Choose wisely."

It took a full 30 seconds for Anhaar to finally shake her head and say, "_La_, I still have much to accomplish in Baghdad and greater Mesopotamia. I look forward to hearing more about you in global news. I hope you will do the same regarding me."

And with that, she disappeared in a puff of purple smoke and dark laughter.

All at once, the hustle and bustle of Baghdad was reanimated and Anhaar was gone. In her place stood a dark faced, toothless beggar who seemed like he had no idea how he got there. In his filthy hand was the red lacy veil, which the immortal tore out of his grip and stuffed into his sash.

* * *

Chase searched all of the Middle East and Africa for Anhaar before reaching to a disappointing conclusion. She was gone. And all he had left was the exotic scarf, tainted with the intoxicating scent

* * *

**Translation:**

**Azzan: Call to prayer in the Muslim religion. Consists of the words "God is great, God is great. Indeed, there is no God but God, and Muhammad is His messenger. Come to prayer, come to success, God is great, God is great. Indeed, there is no God but God."**

**Lut: Middle Eastern/North African instrument resembling the guitar, with a large rounded out base. It makes a deep, nostalgiac noise.**

**Lullaby: Resembles the "Mockingbird" lullaby. Some parts needed to be changed to fit the spell. Where you see the name, Chase, is where I put "Medina" or "Baghdad" instead.** "Come to sleep, come to sleep, for you we'll kill a dove. No, little dove, don't believe it. We'll laugh with Chase till he sleeps. Sleep, sleep little one. Hair like straw (the word ashkar means blond) and styled. And whoever loves him will kiss him and we'll laugh at Chase till he sleeps."

**Medina: City**

**Afwan: Excuse Me**

**Ana: I am, I, me**

**Bani Adam: Son of Adam, human**

**La: No**

**Masahif: volumes**

**Sahira: Witch**

**Alaysa kathalik: Isn't it so? **

**Jinn: Demons**

**Sayid: Mister**

* * *

**oh wow, another chapter finally finished! Well, so you guys know, I enjoyed writing this chapter because I can relate so much to it. I grew up listening to that lullaby xD Anyways, please review and keep reading. I appreciate the love and support and stuff. I'm thinking for the next chapter I bring in a mermaid. What do you guys think? :) Leave a comment.**


	6. Rufescent Shore

Rufescent Shore

Blood spattered the ground as the dragon ripped the Greek soldiers limb from limb.

He ignored their agonized cries, their pleas, their promises of servitude. He just wanted his staff back, he didn't care what lives he took in the process of retrieving it.

After throwing the last of the dead Greek men into the sea, Chase Young-still in his dragon form- paced on the sandy beach of the Island, growling to himself.

Where could it be? Where was his valuable and more importantly powerful staff?

How had they even gotten to it?

He called to one of the warriors he'd brought with him, Erik.

He growled at the Viking, "Have you figured it out?"

The man responded with, "They tapped into the power of Athena, their goddess."

Chase felt a stir in his chest, a strange feeling of both rage and fear.

"If the gods have it, I will never get it back." He breathed, seething.

Erik returned to his jaguar form, telepathically telling him he would scour the whole island before they turned to the gods.

The lion turned away, leaving the enraged dragon to himself.

For a couple of moments, he simply crunched a few rocks into bits and threw them into the sea before just melting into his human form and brooding over his lost staff.

This staff was very, very special to him. For it to be lost, well it drove Chase mad!

He stood at the edge of the sandy beach, watching the waves ebb and bounce off the sand colored boulders.

He inhaled the salty air, trying to calm himself down a bit.

He then heard a soft squeal. And at first thinking it was a seagull, he ignored it.

Once again, came the squeal, and it continued. Chase scanned the area, wondering where on Earth it had come from .

But then the squeal turned into a song. A wordless, shrill, and feminine cry. A siren.

Suddenly, Chase knew exactly what was making that sound. Abruptly, he turned on his heels to leave, when he felt strangely tired.

Tired? He let out a jaw-cracking yawn. More like exhausted.

Chase felt his eyelids grow heavy, and his limbs grow numb.

He looked down at the sand with an endearing grin before collapsing.

_The ground sure looks comfortable. _He thought.

And he went face first into the sand.

* * *

A white, pink tailed creature approached the sleeping warrior.

She dragged herself out of the water, mindful of keeping the tip of her fins in though.

She reached out to touch the human. And gasped at how warm and...dry he was.

She proceeded to touch his hair. It was long and silky smooth. She smiled. It was like her hair, only dark.

Then she traced his facial features. He was beautiful, simply magnificent. He had the creamy porcelain skin of a god; ageless. His eyelids, closed, turned upwards at the corners. His nose was straight and perfect. His lips, she let a thumb graze over his lips, and smiled. She longed to kiss him now, but she didn't.

She didn't know all humans were this lovely! Her father always told her that humans were big ugly creatures with two strange appendages where the tail should be.

She looked down and realized that; yes, he had these strange appendages. 'Legs' her father called them. But they weren't ugly. They were intriguing! They were long, and when she felt them, she noticed they were strong and muscular.

And she began to touch him in other areas. His chest was encased in armor. She thought it was weird.

Why do humans cover their bodies?

She started to take it off, one metal plate at a time. By the end, he was clad only in black trousers.

She ran a hand over his chest, feeling the rock hard muscle and warmth, reveling in it.

Her hand reached his heart, and she gasped at the strange feeling of thumping.

A heart?

Her father always said humans were heartless, evil creatures that ate fish and polluted the sea.

She was stunned to realize that this human actually had a heart, and that it was beating heavily and proudly.

She set her ear to his chest, listening. She was mesmerized by the soothing beat. She lay her head there and listened fondly.

For a while, the young female and Chase lay there under the sun. She lay across him, her head rested on his breast, a hand on his abdomen.

Suddenly, she felt him stir.

Gasping, she looked down and stared at his face.

His golden eyes fluttered open for a minute, but were still heavy with sleep.

Chase didn't know where he was exactly. But he knew he was looking up at something beautiful.

The sun behind her shone brightly, blinding him a bit. He only saw a bit of her face, but even that was enough.

She was pale, very white. Her face was round, heart shaped. Her hair was long, wet, and the palest shade of blonde he'd ever seen. Her eyes, however, caught his attention.

They were red, so very red.

Immediatley, Chase knew who she was.

As he sat up, she began to drag herself away, into the ocean.

With lightning fast speed, Chase had her pinned to the ground.

He gazed down at the mermaid, emotions running so high he couldn't speak.

The young sea maiden covered her face in fear and whimpered. What her father warned of her of was true! The human was going to kill her!

Instead, Chase bent his head and pressed his forehead to hers.

"Do you know who I am?"

She didn't understand human speech, so she only stared up at him.

Chase frowned, but stayed in that position.

He wondered if she had a name.

The mermaid let out a soft whisper, like a mournful high pitched frequency.

The warlord pulled away.

He realized her breasts went uncovered, only barely veiled by her long white-blonde hair.

He smiled.

She sat up, and mumbled something in her mermaid speech.

She turned, grabbing an abandoned sea shell off the sand and started jabbing at the ground with it.

At first, Chase was confused. But then, he realized she was writing something.

When she was done, she pointed at it excitedly and made "mm,mm" sounds.

It read "Anastasi." in Greek letters.

"Anastasi." Chase repeated.

She beamed proudly and nodded excitedly. A happy dolphin-like squeal escaped her mouth.

Chase grinned, pointing to himself.

"Chase."

Anastasi raised her brows a bit, then opened her mouth to form the word.

It came out butchered and high pitched, making Chase smile wider.

Oh, how she was marvelous!

He leaned in closer to her. He figured...maybe he should kiss her.

And his lips touched hers.

* * *

Anastasi reluctantly went back to the ocean, hurt and horribly confused.

_Chase...he'd kissed her gently. He laced his fingers in her hair and deepened the kiss._

_They kissed for a long while before Chase pulled away suddenly, surprised and disgusted._

_The way he fled from her embrace, it hurt her._

_Then he grumbled, "No. This wasn't...was not meant to be. No matter how tight I clutch you...you always leave me. No."_

_He began to put his clothing and armor on._

_Anastasi didn't know what he said, but she knew it wasn't good. The way he tore himself from her and grunted angrily. His eyes narrowed and filled with shame. _

_Her eyes filled with tears._

_Then she remembered something. _

_"Chaseeee!" She squealed._

_Chase lifted his head, surprised at the sound of her voice._

_She jumped back into the sea and moments later, resurfaced holding something._

_Something Chase had been looking for all day._

_"My...staff?" The dragon lord was both surprised and grateful._

_Anastasi beamed like a full moon at the sight of his sudden grin._

_She'd found the staff at the edge of the beach and snuck away with it while the Greek humans fought over it._

_Then she saw Chase was leaving, so she decided maybe if she gave him something, something good, he would stay._

_She was wrong._

_Almost immediatley, Chase walked away, only nodding to her and mumbling, "Take care of yourself."_

_She watched him leave her._

_That horrible, disgusting human! She thought._

_She was glad she was back in the ocean now, at least no one could see her tears._

* * *

Chase silently wondered if he'd made the right decision.

A staff over a beautiful mermaid lover?

The staff had been with him for generations, he couldn't fight or train without it!

But the mermaid, Anastasi, was the same reincarnated maiden he'd met all those years ago. The one he'd searched the ends of the Earth for.

But the staff would stay with him forever.

Anastasi, true to her prophecy, would only be taken away from him. Sooner or later, she would get hurt, or killed. She would leave him.

Surely he was only being reasonable?

The disapproving face on his lioness Priya, the only jungle cat he could confide in, proved otherwise.

She let a soft whimper loose and lowered her large head to his feet. She stared up at him mournfully.

"You're right." He sighed.

* * *

Anastasi settled against the big white colored boulder at the edge of the beach. Her hair blew in the sea air, her tail drifted in the water. She stared at the sand intently.

She knew a figure was coming, first it was a black dot. Then it grew into a figure, then a tall muscular male's.

Then she realized who it was.

The man smiled at her, so pleased to find that she'd waited for him.

Anastasi peeled herself off the rock, diving into the water, swimming towards the shore, exclaiming,

_"Chase!"_


	7. Cherry Blossom

**Cherry Blossom**

_One hundred years._

One hundred years since Anastasi died. And Chase felt like it'd just been yesterday.

He wasn't as devastated as he thought he would be. Maybe it was because he'd expected it, prepared for it, even.

When he took her into his arms, he transported her into his citadel and placed her in one of the artificial ponds in the main hall. Her mer body could not live without water. This distressed Chase, who was aroused already by her; he needed to find her a pair of legs and a tolerance for water-free environments.

For a week, they went without sexual activity. Chase would wade in the pool with her, laugh with her and she would sing her siren song to him. While Chase greatly enjoyed her company and voice, he was a man.

After much searching, Chase was able to find and place a charm on her mermaid tail, which miraculously split into two appendages, and within seconds, they turned into beautiful legs, and of course, in between was the much awaited 'clam' Chase had been waiting for.

Chase took no time breaking that in.

He'd also taught her to walk upright, to speak a few human words, and defend herself. He hadn't realized it, but he'd fallen deeply in love with her.

Her end came when she'd fallen into a deeper pool in the castle. When Chase found her, she was on her back, eyes wide open and mouth blue. Chase beat himself constantly for not teaching her to swim as a human.

He buried her on an island just off the coast of Greece. After that, he realized her chain of prophecy would never be broken. He knew how fate was written; he would find her in the most unlikely of places and once she became his, she would die or disappear.

Chase knew he could not defy destiny, but he could enjoy it. So enjoy he did.

* * *

He lay under a cherry blossom tree, enjoying it's shade and the breeze it brought. Chase was in Japan, now. It was just out of its Feudal Era, bringing a time of rich advances and beauty. A small , lonely blossom fell onto the tip of his nose. He let it rest there for a moment before blowing it away.

He'd calculated the time it took between each soul to be reincarnated and he'd tracked down exactly where and when they would appear. Her soul moved Eastward, about 100-105 years apart. Chase was able to find her in Japan when in meditation, he saw many samurais appear before him.

So now he waited. It had been three days so far, but Chase was very patient. At last, he heard the swoosh of a staff and could almost feel it touching his face. When he opened his eyes, there she was.

She was small and petite, her red kimono hanging off of her loosely. Her tiny white hands gripped the staff tightly. Her face was heart-shaped and painted, her eyes were red and slanted, and her lips rosy. Her black hair was pinned up tight in a small bun. A golden comb held it together neatly.

Chase grinned.

"Who are you?" She growled, her staff just centimeters away from going up one of his nostrils.

He held up a hand, "No need for that, now." He said.

As he began to stand upright, the girl gasped and held her staff higher and as threateningly as she could. Chase couldn't help it, he chuckled. She was a novice to the world of fighting, a new geisha.

At the sound of Chase's laugh, the young girl began to shake and sweat. But she tried her best to stay calm.

"W-who...who are you?" She tried again. Chase, recovering from his bout of laughter, cleared his throat and bowed, "My name is Chase Young. And, little one, what is your name?"

She shoved the the staff into him, and to her surprise, had the staff yanked upwards so that both of their arms went over their heads and her chest pressed to his.

"What is your name, girl?" Chase grumbled, clearly growing annoyed.

She stuttered and sputtered, nervous and very frankly, freaking out. "I c-c-can't..."

"Her name is Anzu!" A voice called out from behind Chase. He spun around and grinned when he saw who it was who'd spoken.

"Tametomo san!" He greeted, bowing before the legendary samurai.

The seven foot tall warrior returned the bow and smiled, "Young san. It is very good to see you. How have the years been treating you?"

Chase nodded, "The same as usual, really. The years have done you well, I see. Finally got around to using that armor polish?"

Tametomo rolled his eyes, "You know we Japanese don't follow your armor style, Young san." He winked at Anzu then, "I see you've met my apprentice."

Chase glanced back at the girl and smirked, noticing her cheeks now turned a deep red. "Yes, and a fine girl she is. Could use some work on the defense side though. Oh, and learning how to talk."

Her blush deepened. Tametomo chuckled, approaching Anzu and putting a hand over her shoulder. "She is new to this, Young san. Kanojo no shin'yo o ataeru. She must have seen you and recognized you as the famed warrior that you are. She's brave for approaching you, you must admit it."

Chase nodded, crossing his arms behind his back, "Hai, she is. She should be grateful that I know her shogun personally, else I would have showed her just how I became the warrior I am today."

Anzu's red eyes widened and her jaw dropped. She quickly turned to her shogun and asked for permission to leave. When she was granted so, she fled hurriedly.

Chase watched her go, a little disappointed. He turned to Tametomo and said, "Tell me about her."

As they walked, the two warriors discussed her.

She was only sixteen, when she became Tametomo's apprentice. She was an orphan, and lost her family to the demons attacking her village. Chase was genuinely interested in the girl's story, and by then end of the conversation, he desired her both physically and emotionally.

The two men entered Tametomo's home, and sat down for dinner. A young maid by the name of Kekyo set plates before them and smiled flirtatiously at Chase. The taller warrior, now free of his armor, apologized for the absence of An in the room. While Chase really did want her there, he simply shrugged it off.

Anzu, however, paced in her room nervously. Unbeknownst to her master, Anzu had seen this man many times in her dreams. But they weren't just any regular dreams. These were very graphic, very erotic visions and had she shared just a moment with Tametomo, she would have been dishonored.

When she saw him in the garden, her heart rate picked up and her breath caught. She couldn't believe the heavenly man in her dreams, the one that pleasured her and brought inner shame to her, was laying before her so vulnerably. She approached him as silently as she could but alas, he was aware of her. It was shocking, the way he looked at her was like he knew her too.

The entire time he'd been speaking to Tametomo, she'd been shuddering with fear and desire and every time his golden eyes glanced towards her, she'd stop breathing. He never introduced himself in the dreams so when she asked him for his name, she really did want to know.

All at once, she decided to stop pacing and grow a pair. She was a geisha! Not officially, but she would be soon! She was supposed to brave, noble and honorable! Ignoring a man of Chase Young's stature would be dishonorable. She would have to suck it up for this one.

* * *

As Chase sipped his mulberry tea and discussed immortality with Tametomo, the paper door slid sideways and there was Anzu in her innocent beauty, bowing and slowly walking towards them.

Chase smirked at the sight of her. He'd honestly been dying to see her.

"Kangei, Anzu. Gotten over your fear of dragons, have you?" Tametomo joked, gesturing towards the immortal lord. Anzu smiled softly and locked her gazed with Chase's.

"I was never afraid of dragons."

* * *

At around eleven at night, Chase left Tametomo's home reluctantly. He still hadn't received what he'd come for. After tea, he and Tametomo continued to discuss politics and war, while Anzu stared at her hands. But he knew she was sneaking peeks at him. The tall warrior must have realized this, because he'd told her to go to her room, and Chase was given a bow and a solemn "sayonara".

He found himself a large home belonging to an older woman who ran what many would say a very risque business. He requested a room for himself. The elder almost choked upon his request. "No girl? Sir, we have a collection lovely women who would be happy to please you."

He shoved a pile of money into her face, "No thank you, hag. Just one room and some quiet, please."

In the end, Chase lay in the bed and stared up at the ceiling, wondering how he could get past Tametomo and finally into Anzu. He figured he would come back in the morning and convince her himself.

What the draconian man did not expect the next day was to find blood everywhere. The scent hit his nose a mile away from the home and he sprinted the rest of way there. What if it was Anzu?

He ripped through the paper doors and found Tametomo shirtless and hunched over the ground. One long arm lay limp beside him, bloody and cut deep. In his other arm, in his hand was a sword that was plunged deep into his abdomen.

It took Chase a few moments to register the scene, when he heard whimpering.

Looking up, he saw Anzu cowering and sobbing in the corner. When she saw him she choked,

"He called it hari-kiri." She whimpered. Tears flooded her face, streaking her dark makeup across her pale cheeks. She looked at the body again and let out a mournful wail.

His feet crossed the bloody floor and when he reached her, he wrapped his strong arms around her shaking body.

"I will care for you." He mumbled into her dark hair.

* * *

Like he'd planned, he made her his lover. He trained her, he fed her, he made her. Soon enough, though, Anzu's guilt and remorse over her first master ate away at her soul and drove her to madness.

She would leave the citadel and go on murder rampages. All of Asia knew of her as the 'White Geisha'. A pale warrior like her struck at night and took out as many as she could in one day.

She was greatly feared. So much that even Chase was beginning to feel threatened by her presence. One night he came to the conclusion that he would have to end her himself.

But there was no need for it.

One eerily quiet night, lounging in his castle, he smelled blood. His heart raced with him as he hurried to the source of the smell.

There she was, hunched over with a sword jutting out of her body. The blood still dripped off the handle and onto the floor. Just like Tametomo.

Chase's fists balled up and he felt the strangest wave of relief. He was dreading the thought of killing her himself, he wouldn't have been able to bear it. Her committing hari-kiri was a weight gone of his shoulders.

But he was still upset. He was in love with her, but this gave him a chance to prepare for the new one.

He buried Anzu where he'd first met her, under the cherry blossom trees, blossoms raining onto her gave.

* * *

**This was set in Japan, in a small village. Tametomo was a real person, and really did commit suicide after a friend of his cut the tendons in his bow arm. He would no longer be able to fight again. He called it hari-kiri and any samurai worth his salt committing suicide did it just like Tametomo.**

**Yes, Anzu was the one to cut his arm open, and she did kill herself out of guilt for causing his death.** **Till next life?**


	8. Carmine Deliverance

**Carmine Deliverance**

The sun baked the yellow sand and Chase's skin. He hated this heat, he hated the sun. He preferred the coolness of his castle to this barren desert. At least there was shade there.

He was in Africa, watching a group of Dutchmen negotiate with native African chiefs. The fat, pale-skinned European men promised a cut in the diamond findings, and compensation for any lost workers. Chase knew what would happen here. The cheap and rather unfair Europeans would cheat these naive African natives and take all their diamonds, sentencing them to a life of poor fools, he thought.

Looking for Anzu's newest reincarnation, he dug himself deeper into his magic. The scrolls showed him the continent of Africa and a European belt buckle. When he heard of a large Dutch settlement in Western Africa, Chase hurriedly found his way there, knowing his lovely woman would await him. Watching the men converse, he wondered of which race the girl would be. He'd always had a secret fetish for the dark-skinned women, as they were very exotic.

But almost an hour later, he grew bored. He was about to creep around the Dutch settlement when he spotted a little child in a blue, frilly dress and hat run up to and start clinging to a man's leg.

"Papa, papa!" She whined, tugging on his stocking.

The chubby-faced man turned around and looked down at the little girl with disgust. "What are you doing here, go back inside before you burn, you hideous child of Satan!"

The girl gasped and her red eyes filled with tears. The man kicked her away brutally. She ran away, tripping over the frills in her dress.

Chase held back a growl. This obese idiot kicked away a little angel like her, and for what? Her coloring? The girl had the palest blonde curls and the reddest eyes he'd seen yet. Her skin was pale and pink-tinged from the sun. Chase thought she was absolutely angelic.

Chase was disappointed to see that Anzu had become a little girl. He'd planned to share a bedroom with her reincarnation, but seeing her as a child, he realized he'd have to wait a while. He sighed.

He saw the little girl run away, sobbing, back to the settlement. He made a mental note to murder the father in his sleep. He followed her, secretly, and watched her run into a small hut. Chase peered in through a forgotten window in the back of the room.

There were five other children in the hut, forming a circle, and a nun sitting in the middle, reading a Bible to them. When she saw the girl run in, tears streaming down her face, she scowled.

"Child, what have I told you about these readings? You are not allowed here. You will bring dark spirits. Go away."

This only made the girl cry harder and stomp out of the hut. She trudged into an open, empty space, only a few hundred feet away from the settlement. She threw herself onto the ground and hid her face in between her knees. She cried and cried her little heart out.

Chase felt her tears jerk at his heart strings. How cruel could Catholics be to their children! How can one teach love and acceptance when they so outright hate their own offspring? Watching her wail her feelings out distressed him. He decided now was the time to make his presence known. He stepped out from behind the bush and walked cautiously towards her.

She only noticed him when he cleared his throat. Looking up, she could only gape at the strange Asian man glaring down at her. She'd never seen a man like him in real life, just in the books they were given in school.

"Hi." She sniffled. She scrubbed one eye with a little hand.

Chase raised an eyebrow. "Hello." He answered coolly.

"What's your name?" She managed, still trying to catch her breath. She stood, shaking.

He kneeled to reach eye-level with her. "My name is Chase. May I ask for yours?"

She nodded and struggled to curtsy, something she'd learned in school. "My name is Annie Van Daan, sir." She said as politely and sweetly as she could.

Chase grinned. She was so precious! So polite and sweet and adorable. How could anyone hate her so?

She tilted her head to the side. "Sir?"

"Yes?" Chase was delighted to speak to this little girl.

She bit her lip. "Don't my eyes scare you?" She whispered.

His eyebrows arched again. "No, I find them very enchanting, little Annie." He answered.

The girl held back a gasp, she couldn't tell if the man was being sincere.

"Who told you they were supposed to be frightening?" He asked. She looked at her feet in guilt, like she wasn't supposed to talk about it. Like she was betraying the very person who told her.

"My Papa...and Sister Jacobina." She whispered. Chase figured the nun in the hut was Sister Jacobina. He'd make sure to give her a proper visit once this conversation was over.

Chase huffed, "Very well, we'll take care that later." He refocused on Annie, "Tell me, little girl. How old are you?"

She picked up her hand and started counting her little digits. She then looked up at Chase and said confidently, "Seven years old, sir."

Another grin. "Well, aren't you a big girl." Chase praised.

She blushed and stared down at her buckled feet. "Papa says I'm too small for my age. He says its a side effect of being a child of Satan. But I don't remember ever seeing Satan, Papa's my papa."

When she saw the frown on Chase's face her eyebrows knotted together. "Right?" Suddenly, she wasn't so sure.

Chase sneered, a man like that truly was satanic. "You have no idea how far from the truth you both are." He growled.

He looked back at Annie and was shocked to see more tears pooling in her eyes. "I'm ugly, I'm a hellish child, I don't deserve deliverance!" She wailed.

Chase held back his anger. The girl repeated this like she'd been fed the lies over and over til she herself believed them. He placed a hand under her chin and muttered, "Look at me, girl."

She sniffled and shook violently, but she fixed her gaze on him anyway. He looked her deep in her crimson eyes and saw a whip of a pink tail in the vast ocean, he saw the magical curves of a gypsy prancing through a bazaar. This girl was a combination of all of his past loves and desired. She was timid like Anastasi. She was small and soft-spoken like Anzu, intelligent like Albina, captivating like Anhaar, devoted like Anh Dao, and beautiful like Anneliese.

He said firmly, "You don't deserve to be spoken to like that. You are pure, and anyone that says differently doesn't deserve deliverance."

A stray tear fell and he wiped it away from her cheek using his thumb. She only stared at him. "Really?" She asked.

He nodded. "Do you honestly think Jesus would turn away angels like you?"

Finally, a huge smile broke on the girl's face and more tears streamed out of her eyes. Chase leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss on her pale forehead and murmured, "Keep your chin up and take care of yourself."

As he walked away, she called, "Sir?"

He looked back, back at Annie. "Yes?"

She chewed on her lower lip, "Am I pretty?" Chase smiled at the question.

"The most beautiful girl I've ever seen." He answered honestly.

* * *

**I figured for once Chase would have to act like a fatherly/big brother figure instead of always getting it on with the chick. And, if you haven't realized, I made all the names start with A's and have N's as the consonant (except for Albina) because the last incarnation is named...can't tell you. Read Forget Royalty, my other fic and you shall know! :) Till next time. **


	9. Rosy Wicca

A harsh wind brushed against Anthony's cheek as he scoured the forest ground for something that would help Goody Mulberry fix him. He shivered as the cold air nipped his skin raw through his thin muslin shirt. It was December; the snow came down light- if ever. But the air was freezing all the same.

As his knees buckled and his back ached, Anthony solemnly swore to himself, "With the Lord as thine witness, Anthony, you will abolish this village; at once thine illness is removed."

He bent over when he saw a strange, green colored rock partially hidden among patches of dead grass. As he started to pick it up, he noticed a blur in the distance.

He fixated his gaze on where he noticed the blur; between a couple of distant trees. His heart rate sped up, thinking it was a bear or some other dangerous creature; he picked up the rock and sped away as quickly as he could.

He didn't care that his trousers were sliiping, or that his leather shoes were a few sizes too big and slapping his ankles harshly as he ran. He just knew that a strange individual like himself was always a good prey for wild animals...and discriminatory Protestants.

He ran for his life, up until he reached his home village. He panted heavily once he stopped, and began coughing at once his asthma picked up. He wheezed and grabbed as his trachea seemed to freeze up from the winter air. He almost doubled over coughing.

The villagers around him, the ones insane enough to go outside in the presence of such a strange boy, backed away and stared at him, horrified.

Anthony tried to smile amiably at them but they glared back with such hatred and aversion that he almost feel the daggers digging into his white skin.

A quiet but harsh whisper of _"Devil."_ in the crowd made him scowl. In his head he promised once more, "Hell will feast grandly tonight ", and he quickly retreated to a small hut in the ends of the village. He knocked three times and kicked it once, like Goody Mulberry taught him.

A few shuffling noises and suddenly the door flew open. Anthony felt himself being dragged in by a bony set of hands. Suddenly he was shoved to the ground. He landed with an 'oomph' and realized he was sitting in a circle of candles and chalk lines.

"Goody Mulberry?" He looked around, asking. It was dark inside the house, only the candles dimly lit the room. He could only see shadows, and it seemed like each shadow was a demon watching him. He shivered.

Suddenly, Goody Mulberry was in front of him, with one wrinkly hand outstretched. Anthony sat, confused for a few seconds before realizing what she wanted. He gave her the rock, which had been clutched in his hand this whole time.

The old witch, wrinkled and short, gave him a toothless grin. She was a short, stocky woman. She was a Wiccan, under the guise of a Quaker. Anthony knew her personally for years now. He had been orphaned at an early age, and since he was strange in color (people called him "Ghoul", "Devil Boy" or "Phantom Boy") he was taken in by a nice Quaker couple. The man of the house died long ago, Goody Mulberry was the lady in charge now.

Goody Mulberry was kind to him but never spoke much around him. Anthony never heard her even say his name. He wasn't even sure he knew what her voice sounded like.

The only way he knew she would be speaking to him was if she was staring at him. She made gestures and grunted at things if she wanted them. She was also an impatient woman. When she told Anthony to go to the forest to find her something to cast the spell with, she threw a candle stick at him, (but missed) sending it through an open window, and it landed outside in the trees.

When she smiled at him, he knew something big was about to happen, something monumental.

Anthony was born an albino, something so outrageous in New England it could only be described as "the devil's work". Anthony's parents had been accused of witch craft, he had been accused of witch craft, and the so-called "good Christians" of his village burned his parents and tortured the boy for days.

He also had asthma, and whenever he had an attack, the pastor called it "trying to communicate with Lucifer".

Anthony was seeking asylum from this discrimination. He begged Goody Mulberry to find him a spell; one that would cure him of his illnesses, and one that would make him stronger. He wanted his revenge on the people who killed his parents.

Goody Mulberry, who had been a Quaker for most of her life, also sought revenge. Quakers never had a good life under the watchful eye of Protestant Christians. She was described as a witch, a sister of Lilith and the Bride of Satan when she first came to New England. Once her husband died she decided she would make them eat their words.

* * *

Anthony could feel his body warming up quickly as the candle lights glowed brighter and brighter. He listened to Goody Mulberry's chanting and tried to make sense of it, but her voice was so hoarse and gravelly he couldn't make out a single syllable. The chalk lines around him began to glow as well, going whiter than moonlight. He watched in awe as his own skin began to shift, as though it were trying to move.

He felt no pain, no numbness, not even the slightest discomfort. It was truly amazing, to see light coming from your skin and to feel it change. It was amazing to suddenly be floating in the air, to feel as though you were sitting atop of a cloud.

Anthony's feelings of ecstasy were brought to an end when the wooden door to the house was pounded on and then trampled through by a group of surly men.

Goody Mulberry shrieked, and the glowing stopped. Immediately, Anthony crashed to the ground and hit his arm on a stray floorboard, nails jutting out of it.

He cried out and clutched his arm. The men were on Goody Mulberry within seconds, grabbing her from all sides.

She continued to shout and scream and Anthony could only watch in horror as they dragged her away.

"NAY!" He struggled to get to his feet and trudged after them. "I pray thee; please do not harm Goody Mulberry!"

One of the men turned around and stared at his bleeding arm. "Thou art fortunate to be somewhat human. Leave us in peace; we will rid this village of another witch."

"Nay, please…." Anthony murmured helplessly as the men dragged the woman, kicking and screaming, into the town square.

"She will be dead within the fortnight." He thought.

He felt tears sting his red eyes and he growled angrily to himself. He turned around, still clasping his arm and trying to squeeze the pain away.

* * *

By the time he got back to the house, he was having another attack. He coughed desperately and wheezed and gasped. After the agonizing seconds of breathlessness that came afterwards, he picked up his head and noticed a red glare in the distance.

There was that blur again, and then two red, lustrously glowing eyes met his.

Then they were gone.

* * *

A tanned, curvy woman dressed in cream colored silks entered the doorway, bowing deeply as she did so.

"Is the deed done?" A voice asked.

She nodded her head, "Yes, Master."

"Thank you for your services, Priya. They are appreciated."

The woman shape shifted into a golden haired lioness. She shook her fur clean and approached the owner of the voice.

A gloved hand reached out to scratch her behind her ears. He smirked when he heard the pleased purring.

"With the old hag out of the way, he will stay mine." He grumbled.

Priya nodded and thought, "She was already in the process of changing him."

Chase Young sighed, "So you see why I asked you to expose the witch?"

Priya nodded once more, "Had any sort of change occurred to him like that, one as drastic as turning him into a non-albino Warlock, his destiny would never be fulfilled…."

"He would have become immortal and I would never see a female version of him again." Chase finished.

It went quiet in the throne room, and Chase wondered how long it would take for Anthony to die, and he hoped he never had to do something so risky again.

He hoped and prayed the next incarnation wouldn't be a male, either.

* * *

**Marhaba, my readers. It's been a while, hasn't it? This is what college does to you. It ruins patterns of daily life. I picked up my old habit of biting my nails from the stress. HOWEVER, stay in school! And a message to those waiting for my stories...I will try to finish. Most of them are saved on my Mac, and it's been burnt out, the files are save but I need to recover the computer itself. The next chapter to this story is on there. It's so gooey and cute and romantic, you will LOVE it. A hint, the 9th life isn't human...or animal...she is not a mermaid or an apple for that matter.**

REVIEW and stay. In. Effing. School.


	10. Scarlet Wing Tips

**Scarlet Wing tips**

Chase growled at the scrolls laden on his desk, placing his palms on the edges and digging his nails into them. He didn't notice that the table had been crushed underneath his powerful grip.

"Where could she possibly be?" He asked frustratedly to no one in particular.

Chase lost track of Anthony. After he died, Chase went to work finding the next soul he would reincarnate into. But even after all the reading and charms and sleepless nights, the dragon lord could not spot her on his map.

His Eye Spy Orb wouldn't show him an image of her when asked. He used all of her/his names, all of her locations in the past. Nothing showed up, just a big black blur. It was as though she'd fallen off the edge of the Earth.

He rubbed his topaz eyes, yawning. After Anthony died of pneumonia, he stayed up for long periods throughout the night, only getting about four hours of sleep, and that was on good days. He found himself slipping into bouts of depression. He would literally trudge around the castle, his fighting had gone sloppy, his movements sluggish. He barely had the energy or the will to shave, brush his once luscious mane, or eat.

The only thing he survived on was his Lao Ming Long soup and the presence of Priya. Priya, his Indian priestess-turned jungle cat, kept him company through the hardest times.

He met Priya while battling the legendary Kandari Putham, an Indian warrior with the fangs of a saber tooth, skin of a serpent and the claws of a bear. The two battled it out fiercely on a mountain top, whoever fell off the edge was declared the loser...and dead. Chase, only 200 years young, was struggling to keep his balance. Had Kandari made that final blow with his arrow Chase surely would have died. But instead, a black and flaming spear head pierced Kandari's grotesque skull from behind.

When Chase looked up, he saw her. Priya was neither fat, nor thin. She was curvy, small and lovely. Her face was round shaped, her nose flat and pierced with a stud. Her eyes were huge and unnaturally blue. Her long raven black hair was swept back and held by a gold chain. She had a small bindi gracing the middle of her forehead.

She grinned at Chase and began flinging arrows at him. He remembered her first words to him, "If anyone is going to kill the Chase Young, it is going to be me."

Chase only responded with an amused chuckle.

They fought for hours before Chase knocked her onto her back and took her soul for his keepsake. That's where he made her the sleek lioness she was now.

Priya was his first jungle cat, and the only cat to ever hear his deepest secrets. She was the one warrior he trusted with his life. She never judged him, but she guided him when he needed her advice.

She was like a surrogate mother.

The first thing she said to him when Anzu died was, "We all have to die. Even you."

Chase took this into consideration. Could he end himself? No. No, he couldn't. His instincts wouldn't allow it. So he sat in misery. He would vent and scream and roar to the night sky and Priya would listen quietly. One night, Chase sat on the edge of his bed, shaking with pain after a scary tantrum. Priya could see his very skin prickle and move. His head was cradled between his large hands. His breathing was labored.

Priya knew she was risking her life by saying this, but she did anyway.

"My lord, you can cry."

He looked up at her, a stunned expression written all over his perfect face. She nodded, expression blank. "I won't judge you."

Unknown to the mortal eye, Chase's lower lip just barely quivered and his eyebrows knotted in a tight scowl. Priya understood, nodding again and slipping past him, outside the door.

After he got over his pain, he succumbed to the obsessive search for her. He always wondered what her name would be, where she would hail from. Persia? Egypt? Brazil? He wondered what she would look like, how old she would be. Middle aged and wise like Albina, or young and innocent like Annie? Would she be human or something else entirely; like Anastasi the mermaid or Anh Dao the dove? Would she become male, like Anthony, or genderless?

It had been 88 years and he still tormented himself with these questions.

* * *

He was in a forest. It was pitch-black, dark where he was, but thanks to his cat-like vision, he saw perfectly.

The trees were huge, enormous. Their trunks ascended endlessly, their canopies not even existing. The ground was dry and covered in dead leaves. There was absolutely no sound here, not even a cricket or an owl.

Then he heard a sudden crunch. Turning, he quickly fell into fighting stance and looked around cautiously. He stood there for a good thirty seconds before a bright light illuminated the shadows before him.

At first the light was a dim pale yellow, but upon moving closer, Chase discovered the light was bright and emanating from an individual.

A rosy-complexioned, red eyed creature slipped out of the bushes and smiled warmly at the dragon lord.

The...female, had snowy white hair that reached her shoulders and curled in impossible ringlets at the tips. Her eyes were lined in blue kohl, so much of it that it smeared across her temples upwards. Her lips went unpainted; they were so plush and plump Chase fought the urge to touch them. Her ears were just slightly pointed at the tips, and her graceful neck was that of a swan's.

Her body was a heavenly image. Her petite frame came with quite the bust and wide hips.

She wore a black tunic that barely covered her midsection. Her cleavage was there for all to see, and if Chase was correct, bending over would give everyone a full view of her bottom. She was barefoot, but her feet looked remarkably clean.

He heard a raspy whisper come from her. She smiled at him, her fangs showing. Chase could see she was not human. Her red eyes glowed like stars. Could it be?

"What is your name?" He asked.

She giggled, her raspy voice tickling Chase to his very core. "My name," she said, "is Analia." Chase felt a sense of relief. She's here, she's real!

"You're alive." He murmured, approaching her slowly. He stretched out an arm to touch her. She giggled again before shooting up into the sky. It took Chase a second to register that she was flying. It was then he noticed her little pink tipped wings.

A sprite?

That couldn't be right, sprites were supposed to be tiny, no bigger than mice. How could she possibly be that big?

He called to her. His voice echoed in the forest, vibrations rippling through the trees. Analia floated downwards towards him with a loving smile.

"Yes?" She tiptoed towards the man. She leaned forward just so their bangs were touching.

"Are you...?" Chase couldn't even finish his sentence.

"I'm here for you, Chase." She whispered, giving him an eskimo kiss. "You needed me."

He couldn't believe it. "Why couldn't I find you?" he asked.

She moved closer to him. "I'm only a sprite. In reality, I'm small enough to fit in your palms."

Chase's eyebrows shot up. "In reality?" He looked around.

Suddenly, all the trees morphed into psychedelic spirals and pinwheels. The sky turned orange, the ground beneath him was now a gooey purple river. He looked up at Analia who was sitting on a suspiciously colored rock. She had her legs crossed.

"Chase, you're dreaming." She smiled.

The man, in realization, growled. "You aren't real. My subconscious created you out of loneliness." Dammit.

Analia flitted toward him and set a rosy palm on his shoulder. "I am real. But I'm in the spirit world...I'm dead."

Chase turned abruptly and grabbed her by the shoulders. "How could you be...?"

The sprite smiled again, "It doesn't matter. But my prophecy was cut off so the only way to fulfill it again was to visit you in your dreams. The gods work in mysterious ways, my love."

With that, she kissed him. It was a soft, chaste kiss, and the moment Chase tried to return it, she flew backwards. He murmured softly, "You have no idea how I've missed you."

"I know." She said sadly. She looked at him with glistening red eyes. "My love, you've tortured yourself so much. I hate to see you so hurt. Please stop doing this to yourself."

He shook his head. "I need you."

"And I will be back," she placed a hand over his cheek, "I may be dead now, but I will come back. When I crossed into the spirit world, I saw a vision of you and myself together. I instantly knew who you were and it just wasn't fair that I couldn't be with you."

She sighed, "I begged the gods to reanimate the prophecy. I didn't want to leave you behind."

Hearing this, Chase wrapped his arms around the sprite. Oh, how he loved her. Not even a full hour with her and he was smitten. Analia buried her face into his neck.

"You will see me again. I promise."

"When?" He pleaded. She looked up and saw the desperation in his eyes.

"Be patient, Chase. The gods will try to trick you. When you find me, I will not leave you then, but you will think that I have. Keep your eyes open."

Chase sat up, gasping and sweating. He panted as he looked around and fumbled with the covers. No warm body accompanying him in bed. He could have sworn he felt hot hands touching his face and soft lips upon his own just moments ago.

"Analia." He whispered to the air.

Like he'd expected, there was no answer. As he lay back to contemplate his dream, he felt a cold shiver and saw the faintest glow illuminate the room for a second before leaving him in total darkness.


End file.
